


Born Again Tomorrow

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27424084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Chaos follows Nikki's supposed 'death'.
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 13
Kudos: 12





	Born Again Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> TW - There is NO domestic violence in this story, however, Mick does push Nikki to the ground.

" _In other news today, we have reports coming in of Mötley Crüe bassist, the dreadfully infamous Nikki Sixx, having overdosed."_

For a single moment, it seemed like Mick's heart had stopped, too. He couldn't breathe, because it suddenly felt like all of the air had seeped from his lungs and it was too much - millions of terrible thoughts, horrible and godforsaken. Mick almost didn't hear the next words over the sound of all of the blood rushing through his veins. 

' _It's a terrible tragedy for fans of the band, and we're sure that the members themselves are incredibly upset over the tragic news.'_

Mick steered onto the side of the road, narrowly avoiding crashing the car because of how much his hands were shaking. It couldn't be true, it couldn't be right. People reported fake news all the time! But there was a sudden sinking feeling in Mick's stomach and he couldn't breathe, could barely find his thoughts in the sudden rush of emotions, of disbelief. 

' _Our condolences go out to Nikki Sixx's family.'_

Reaching out, Mick shut off the car, and the keys fell onto the floor of the car without a hand to grab them. The sound of them falling seemed to bring Mick back down to reality, and he sucked in a desperate breathe, trying to calm himself, but it didn't work. 

Just the day before, they'd spoken over the 'phone about nothing, just trying to make normalcy in the daily chaos of their lives. Mick had been concerned over how much Nikki was slurring his words, over how out of it the younger man had been, but he'd brushed it off as just another day. 

Mick buried his face in his hands, and he screamed. 

The sound was partially muffled by skin, but it still seemed to echo throughout the small space and ring in Mick's ears. 

"Fuck!" Mick slammed his hands against the steering wheel, unsure what to make of himself, but just knowing that he felt angry and stricken by grief, his mind racing with the news. "Fuck! No." He broke off into a broken sob that seemed to come from deep within his chest. 

"No, no, no..." Mick squeezed his eyes shut, his chest feeling like it was constricting, bitter tears rolling down his face. He didn't know if it was true, but a sinking feeling had developed within his stomach, and why shouldn't Mick believe it? 

Nikki had been in a downward spiral for years, now, but he was too young, to full of life, to be gone. They'd just talked! Mick could still remember the tone of the bassist's voice, and how _alive_ he had sounded. 

Just a few days ago, Mick had kissed him, had hugged him in an act of affection that shouldn't have come as easily as it did. Nikki had been talking about some new lyrics that he'd been writing, and Mick had been excited to see them and read what that brilliant man had written. 

But now, in just a few days time, everything was now falling apart. 

Mick furiously wiped the tears from his eyes, fingers digging into the flesh underneath to rid himself of them. He needed to calm down and get back home so that he could call Tommy and see that the news was true. It was a reliable news station, but not even the most well informed were always true. 

Bending down, Mick managed to retrieve the keys and he shoved them back into the ignition. The car came to life with a roar and, with shaking hands, Mick got back onto the road. He wasn't far from his temporary house, and that's where he was headed. If Mick had been closer to Tommy's or Vince's, he would've headed there, but there were two hours that separated the three of them, and so Mick headed home, trying not to think about anything but that was impossible, because Nikki was gone. 

' _You don't know that.'_ Mick thought. ' _Fake news, it always happens. People always report that the celebrities are dead, and then they always take it back. Nikki isn't dead. He can't be dead.'_

Except when Mick returned to his lonely little house in the hills, he turned on the television and switched to one of the news channels, standing in the middle of the living room and staring at the flickering screen. The reporter on the screen was talking about a recent burglary in the area, and then the stories switched. 

The reporter looked deadly serious as she looked at the papers in her hands and then back up at the camera. "In other news today, I am regretful to inform any rock'n'roll fans out there of this tragic news. Nikki Sixx, most known for being the bassist, songwriter, and co-founder of the band Mötley Crüe, overdosed late last night." Mick couldn't take it, couldn't listen to it anymore, and he shut the television off, cutting the reporter mid-sentence and allowing the silence to overwhelm him. 

This couldn't be real - Mick wanted to convince himself that it was all a dream, and that nothing was really happening. 

In reality, Nikki was alive, and maybe he was driving Doc up a goddamn wall or maybe trying to become a drug dealer in his spare time or writing more lyrics or trying to practice his bass or ANYTHING that wasn't this.

He couldn't be dead. 

Nikki was young. _Too_ young. There was still a spark of flame in his green eyes and a devil's smirk that couldn't be tamed. He should've lived for so much longer, enjoyed life, but there was so many things about his lifestyle and mindset that killed him too soon. 

Mick felt like his heart had died alongside Nikki. 

' _Is this was dying feels like?'_ Mick wondered as he stumbled back toward the couch and sat down, staring at the patterns in the carpet. His fingers ached for the familiar pale skin underneath their touch, and, God, if you would've told Mick that he would be feeling this way for another person, he wouldn't have believed you, least of all if you'd have told him that it would be _Nikki_ that these feelings were directed at. 

A small part of Mick wondered if it had been intentional. 

Nikki had always been depressed. Sure, he wasn't exactly the stereotypical case of depression, but anybody with a brain and a pair of eyes could tell what was going on. Nikki hadn't taken well to the life that he'd been shoved into - he acted like it, but behind the scenes, he cursed and screamed and wondered why nobody gave a single damn about the bassist. " _Nobody would give a single flying fuck if I were to just kill myself!"_ Nikki had yelled, flames dancing in his eyes and teeth bared in a snarl. " _Not my mother, not my absentee-fucking father, not my grandparents, not Vince, not Tommy, and not you!"_

And then, the small part wasn't so tiny anymore. 

Mick didn't want to think about it anymore, but it was too late, and before any protests could come, his mind was filled with mental images - Nikki, high and drunk, thinking about life a little too hard. Nikki, going on a binge. Nikki, with zero cares in the world, injecting himself. Nikki, thinking that nobody fucking loved him because his mind couldn't comprehend the truth. 

"Shit, Nik." Mick muttered, burying his face in his hands. He knew that he needed to call Tommy and Vince and probably Doc, but he just couldn't. If he talked to anybody, then Mick feared he would fall apart completely. 

He wondered who had done to identify the body. He wondered who would be paying for the funeral. He wondered who would have to answer all the questions. 

Mick hoped that he wouldn't have to. Could he even go to the funeral without acting like a complete pussy and breaking down in tears? Mick didn't like to think himself like that kind of guy, but he had loved Nikki with no tomorrow in sight, but tomorrow had come, Iand now that he was gone, gone like the wind that'd carried him in, what could be done? 

Standing up on shaky legs, like a newborn deer who hadn't quite gotten used to walking yet, Mick stood up and somehow managed to climb up the stairs and emerge on the second floor. He walked into the bedroom, dark and empty, and sat down on the bed. Just a few nights ago, Nikki had tried to sleep there but he'd become restless and so, while Mick was sleeping, he'd woken up and snuck onto the balcony for a smoke. Mick had nearly been given a heart attack when he'd awoken to no Nikki, but had nothing to fear, because there was a slender figure out on the balcony, staring contemplatively out into the sunset. 

They didn't have exactly the most normal relationship, but could anybody have expected for anything to blossom in the first place? They'd loved each other, and that was all that had mattered. None of the technicalities did, anyways. 

"You selfish asshole." Mick muttered into the open air, as if Nikki was standing there, watching him with zero pity, because that just wasn't his style. No, Nikki was the sort of guy to grab somebody by the arm and tell them to stop bring such a coward. "Ever think of anybody but yourself, huh?" Mick wondered if he was going to start crying again. It sure as hell felt like it, but no tears came, just a cold emptiness. There was no more blood, rushing through his veins. There was no more heartbeats, no more breathing. Just pain, knowing that the one person that kept him going was gone. 

On the pillow was a single strand of reddish-brown hair, and Mick snorted out a weak laugh, rubbing his eyes. "You shed like a fucking dog, Nik." He said. 

"Huh?" A voice said from behind, and Mick nearly had a heart attack before anything relating to his disease could take him. 

Whirling around so fast that it caused sparks of pain to come to life in his back, there was a single moment where Mick thought that he was hallucinating. He must've been, because Nikki was dead. 

Except the man himself was standing there in the threshold, looking deeply confused and exhausted beyond belief. 

As if they were two strangers caught in an intense standoff, they stared at each other for a few painfully long minutes. Brown met green, and grief met confusion, and they mingled together like some demented painting that Van Gogh had done in his off season. 

"You're supposed to be dead, you - you motherfuck." Mick said, his voice shaking near the end, unsure of what to say. Either he was hallucinating, or he needed to call the fucking Ghostbusters, because _what the hell?_

Nikki's gaze drifted. "Hmm." He said. 

"Hmm?!" Mick wondered if he was finally losing his mind. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He stood up, walked across to the room, and grabbed Nikki by his thin shoulders. It was startling, really, how easily Mick could feel the fragile bones underneath soft skin. "You. Are. Supposed. To. Be. Dead." Mick hissed. "The news said so - you overdosed." 

"I did?" Nikki's voice sounded painfully hoarse. "Well, 'shame it didn't work." 

Mick felt like he was going to kill Nikki, and give the news a _real_ thing to report for once in their useless lives. He scowled, unable to articulate the million of words going through his head. Mick shoved Nikki backwards, and without much balance, Nikki fell onto the floor with a yelp, looking shocked, his boots already scrambling for purchase as he pushed himself back up, ready to flee at the slightest inclination.

It took a moment for Mick to realize what he'd done, and the implications of the action. Mick had no idea why he'd done such a thing, but now that it'd been done, he knew that the fragike trust was shattered, and the pieces that remained were small and useless. "Oh, god. Nikki, are you okay?" Mick knew better than to approach, and so he just stood there, watching as Nikki pressed himself up against the wall. There were track marks up and down his arms, and his ribs were poking out from underneath his skin. 

He looked like a fucking corpse. 

And that was the truth, now, wasn't it? 

"Don't - don't do that again." Nikki sounded strangely calm despite the panic that painted his face. "Don't you fucking push me again." His slender fingers were hooked and curled into the wall, as if he were holding onto it for dear life. 

Mick's grief turned to guilt. He looked down at the floor, which was now covered in scuff marks, and far from being lifeless, his heart was pounding rapidly in his chest. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm sorry. Fuck. _Fuck._ I'm sorry." He dragged his hands through his hair, hating himself, hating the world, wishing for nothing more than just completed, total darkness. Just a moment's peace, with nothing and nobody. 

When Mick got emotional, all of his feelings came out in full force, and this was only an example. He had never ever laid a hand on Nikki like that before in any way, until now. Mick tried to remember the last time he had cried before this dreadful day, and couldn't recall. "No excuses." He mumbled, and, all of a sudden, he was crying again. 

Nikki's look of shock turned to panic. "Oh, fuck me." He muttered to himself, knowing that he wanted to run, but needing to stay. His mind was hazy, and the thought process wasn't working properly, but somehow, a message got through the broken system. ' _Help him.'_ Nikki didn't want to come closer, but he was much faster than Mick, and could get away without trouble if something were to happen again. 

"Don't cry." Nikki sounded like he was begging. "Please." He added, feeling a shiver wrack through his body. It was cold as anything in that house, but Nikki couldn't find it within himself to fix that problem. 

Instead, Nikki stepped foward, and after a moment of contemplation, made his way across the room. Awkwardly, like a robot who hadn't quite figured out human emotions, Nikki pat Mick on the back in a manner that seemed more befitting of somebody who was trying to dislodge food from the throat of a man who was choking. 

The whole thing was fucked. 

Mick was beyond crying - he was sobbing, face buried within his hands, shoulders shaking and breaths heaving. "I'm sorry." He repeated, voice muffled and barely audible. "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry."

"Please be quiet." Nikki replied. 

"Fuck this whole day." Mick said, more than likely to himself. "Fuck everything. I'm so tired." He tried to stop the tears, but they continued to fall, trailing down his cheeks and under the curve of his chin. "I thought you were dead. And then you're back but you _look_ dead." 

Nikki felt himself shiver again. "Doc is calling Tommy and Vince." He said uselessly. 

"Dead, dead, dead. I want to feel dead." Mick continued. "I want to stop feeling because it hurts, so much. I thought you were gone and it _hurt_ but then you came back and I hurt you instead of just fucking thanking god that I still have you." He never got angry, but when he did, and when something catastrophic happened, then it ate him alive. 

"Um, that's okay." Nikki wasn't entirely sure that what he was doing was working because Mick was still crying. But he didn't know what else to do. "It ain't the worst thing that's happened to me." 

"And that's exactly what's wrong. I shouldn't have pushed you anyways, but after everything that - This isn't about me." He sighed. "There's no excuse. I know that you're going to be angry at me, and that's alright. That's your right, for that anger, and your fear." Mick finally managed to compose himself enough to look up. He seemed to have realized something, and his eyes darkened. "Are you alright?" He asked, reaching his hand up and wrapping his fingers around Nikki's wrist. "I know that you're not exactly wanting to talk to me right now, after what I did." 

"You didn't hurt me." Nikki said. "But don't you do that again, Mick. Because I'm not afraid to shove you back." Had it been anybody else, even Tommy, then Nikki would've already been out the door and on the next bus to nowhere. 

But emotions were high, and nothing made sense. 

Mick smiled weakly, knowing that the response was meant to show that Nikki was slowly coming back down from his fright. 

But this nightmare wasn't over yet. 

"What happened?" Mick asked, pulling Nikki down, and the younger man obliged, sitting down and leaning against Mick's shoulder, seeking support as all of the bones seemed to disappear from his body. Nikki smelt strongly of antiseptic and smoke, and Mick wrinkled his nose at the combination. 

It took a moment of hesitancy, but Nikki rested his head against Mick's shoulder. "I took too much. I didn't mean to, I really didn't, but it just felt so _good_ and I started feeling weird after awhile. I don't know what happened after that." Nikki sounded like he was confessing something, deep and dark and dangerous. "I woke up in the hospital. Two fans picked me up after I signed myself out." 

"Why didn't you call me?" Mick asked. 

"You weren't answering the 'phone." Nikki buried his face in Mick's neck, seemingly reassured that he was safe. Mick hoped to God that the incident wouldn't affect their relationship - he could still feel the thick blanket of guilt as it weighed him down.

Mick winced, knowing that he'd been too overwhelmed by his grief to even care about anybody calling him. Besides, he'd only just recently arrived home. "I'm sorry. I swear that nothing like that will happen again, ever." He moved his hand and, only pausing when Nikki tensed in warning, pressed it against Nikki new heart. 

It was beating, strong and wild, just like the man it was keeping alive. 

' _Don't you dare quit again.'_ Mick thought. "Do you want to lay down?" He offered. 

"Is your back hurting, old man?" Nikki pulled back with his trademark smirk, already moving so that Mick could scoot himself backwards towards the headboard. "Too much action for you, I guess." 

Mick glared. 

But then Nikki slipped into bed, too, and Mick was just glad to have the bassist back in his arms, safe and where he was supposed to be. 

In just a few hours, they would have to come back to reality, and face the consequences of addiction. 

For now, however, nothing could break them. 

"I'm sorry for scaring you." Nikki whispered, letting go of his dignity and cuddling closer into Mick's arms. He was still shirtless, and the air felt like ice cold needles jabbing into his skin. 

Mick didn't want to think about how close he'd been to losing the one man he would ever love. He pressed a kiss to tangled, unwashed hair, and wrapped his arms tighter around Nikki. "Don't think about it." He said. 

It could all wait for tomorrow, because now that Nikki was back, and now that Mick could feel each reassuring beat within his chest, nothing else mattered.


End file.
